Better - Now
by Tari Roo
Summary: Set post season 2, immediately following on the closing scene of Matt and Karen. Karen's headspace and wrapping her mind and heart around the emotional quagmire that is Matt Murdock.
Title: Better – Now
Author: tari_roo  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing and Marvel owns this lovely playground. If I did own anything or have any say in the matter, the red suit would be as skin tight and awesome as the black one.  
Rating and warnings: Gen, mild swearing. No warnings bar being a little shippy.  
Summary: Set post season 2, immediately following on the closing scene of Matt and Karen. Karen's headspace and wrapping her mind and heart around the emotional quagmire that is Matt Murdock. 

Author's note: I wouldn't exactly class this as fix-it fic as I more wanted to explore the possible reactions and thoughts Karen would have post identity-reveal. We probably won't get this on-screen in season 3, and will go straight to aftermath and while the romantic in me is hoping for this outcome, its not a given.

 _I have something…_

In retrospect she only had herself to blame. Instead of a pathetic apology attempt disguised as a Christmas present, Matt had given her something so much more profound than an apology. His call had been unexpected, Karen had half-imagined, half-believed that Matt would never call – would just let her slip away. Maybe she'd bump into him one day – at the courthouse or police station, and it'd be awkward and fake between them but his smile would still make her knees soft. But he had called her, on Christmas day – like he knew she was doing nothing, had nowhere to go – would have no real excuse not to meet him. Her heart was pumping, pounding as she waited, wondering why – why now?

The office felt dead. The air was cold, lost. It was just a place now, not their home. Just a space.

 _When or if you ever feel like you can tell me what's really going on with you, I promise that I'm here._

She'd offered to listen, once. Offered her understanding, needing to know the truth and unsure how to persuade him. It had been implied when she said she wanted to know what was 'up' with him. When he was ready.

Instead of a scarf or perfume or box of chocolates or a can of mace, Matthew Murdock had given her exactly what she wanted. Him. The real him. The truth. With the added bonus of the real reason why Nelson and Murdock had imploded. Why Matt had dropped them so badly with the Castle case. Why he was bruised and cut up – so often. Right now – why he had that bruise on his cheek. Why he didn't answer his phone.

 _I'm Daredevil_

A hundred questions and worries answered in two words and yet, a storm of a thousand more was born in that exhalation. Karen blinked, her mouth open. Of all the possible answers, possible excuses Matt could have given – this was the least she expected.

Everything had been a lie. No, maybe not a lie. Hidden, obscured. A half-truth now revealed and it cast her entire career at Nelson and Murdock, every conversation, every argument, every touch into a colder, harsh light. What had been real? Was it all really a lie? When had Matt been lying, covering for something else? What had been true? Had a car actually hit him? Probably not. Had anything ever been real?

 _Keep this one perfect night_

Had that been real? It felt real. His lips on hers, hungry, needy and yet so confident. Certain of what he wanted. Feather light touches on her face and arms, fingers in her hair, his breath in her ear. They had taken things so slowly. Carefully. Why? And then there had been Daredevil's hand on her face. His blank mask, the one right in front of her now, a hero, a mystery, touching her like she was important.

 _'Are you ok?'_

How could she have missed that? Had she? Did she just not realise in the heat of adrenalin, fear, terror. Daredevil stopped, cut her free, touched her, and asked her if she was ok because… he remembered her. Surely? Maybe? No, it was because Matt came for her. Her Matt. The man who held her hand, touched her, wanted her.

 _I'm not yours to protect_

Liar. He'd made her a liar. He was a liar. A good one. Pathological. Nothing in the world made sense now. Every conversation had two voices – Matt and Daredevil. Who was who? Was Matt the mask, and the devil the one who looked out at the world. Or was Matt real, and the red horns were just the way he expressed a darker, harder part.

 _I'm Daredevil._

He was just standing there. Silent, waiting. Tense. The helmet still outstretched to her, almost an offering, a token, a sacrifice. This is me. You asked. I'm telling you.  
It's hard getting a read on Matthew sometimes. He hides behind those glasses and he has them on now, still hiding from her even as he offered this, his big secret to her. What else was he hiding? What other secrets, lies and deceptions?

The bruises. The cut lip. The hitch in his step. It made her stomach clench thinking about what had actually happened. Ninjas fighting on a roof. A trap for him. The end of vigilantes. She and the people he had saved as bait. The bruise wasn't from a door. The split lip wasn't from a fight club. Matt wasn't a drunk and hadn't fallen. There was not a secret girlfriend, or boyfriend, beating him. He wasn't into a weirdo sex club.

It was ninjas and Frank Castle.

He looked so alone.

Matt stepped back, one foot sliding on the floor, smooth and careful, a fighter bracing for a punch, a dancer about to leap away. Karen paused, mid-step, her hand reaching for the mask and he didn't move again when she took another step, closing the distance. Was his hand trembling?

The helmet felt cold, smooth to her touch. He flinched when she touched his hand, his skin equally cold from the winter outside.

"Karen…"

He didn't stop her as she touched his glasses but his eyes darted away when she pulled them off. They were close enough that she could feel his breath. Again. Close enough to see the scabs, the older bruises. The lines around his eyes. How had she missed all of this?

He looked at her.

It was the same off-centre attention she recognised. Knew. Loved. Looking at her, through her, into her. Eyes not meeting hers but everything in him staring at her, 'seeing' her. Seeing her like no one else did. Like he knew the truth, and didn't care.

"Karen…I…." He licked his lips, mouth open and moist and it was all the invitation she needed. She moved, unthinking.

The kiss was hard, and she didn't care that his mouth was hurting. He still felt like Matt, fragile on the surface until you felt muscle underneath soft cotton, poised potential and promise. She caught him off guard, his hands fluttering on her arms like a nervous bird but as she leant into him, he softened and pulled her closer. He kissed her back, as deeply urgent and desperate as her, tongue slipping past her lips.

His shoulders were tight, taut, stressed. His thigh was hot and steady against hers, a red rock of heat as she pressed herself against his chest. Daredevil's chest. He broke the kiss, and she stared at his face, magnified by proximity, his eyes staring at her nose, her lips close enough to feel his move as he spoke. "Karen."

She kissed his top lip, soft and gentle and he shut up. The kiss was less urgent, more searching. Was it real? This. This heat, this desire. Yes. She knew he loved her. She'd never doubted that. Just … why? Why he had walked away? Why he seemed so intent on destroying it all?

 _The ones that can really hurt, are the ones that are close enough to do it. You have it. You have everything. So hold on to it. Use two hands. Never let go._

Frank's word had hurt. Made her question everything, her very certain, very real instincts. You ran from those who hurt you. You didn't give them more opportunity to bring you pain. Frank was crazy, right – focused and certain, but unhinged. Right? Perhaps love was too strong for what Matt felt for her. Maybe it was just care. Protection. Friendship. The potential of something else. Maybe she had no idea what love was. Frank loved his wife who hurt him, loved her and his family so much that he killed people – hurt so many people in vengeance. For justice. Matt loved her, right? He saved her. Wanted her. He had told her … now that he was ready. Didn't that mean he trusted her?

Everything was broken. The world was brand new. Cold, fresh daylight after dim twilight. Matthew Murdock – unmasked. Not the man she had thought she knew. Not at all. A dark mirror now revealed. Hidden in the shadows no longer, but who stood before her now? She broke the last kiss, soft and gentle and touched his face, his chin and lips.

"Karen."

He said her name like a benediction. A breath of prayer.

Karen pulled away slightly, the distance between them growing, and placed her hand on his chest. "Why now?" Of all the questions bubbling in her heart that one burst out first.

Her voice didn't sound right. "Why not before?"

The ' _when it would have made a difference'_ fell between them, unspoken but Karen felt his flinch. Felt her own wince. Knew that he completed the remainder of that sentence in his head, even as it echoed in hers. Was it too late? For them.

"I'm," Matt started speaking and Karen grasped his hand, close enough to feel his jacket brushing against her arm, the Daredevil helmet caught between them. "What's changed?" she asked, eyes drawn to his face, watching, waiting for … that. Matt looked away, a flicker of some emotion on his face before he withdrew. What has changed? Everything. Nothing. No more Nelson and Murdock. No more nights at Josie's. No more friendly banter, laughter and hopeless optimism in the face of pending bankruptcy. Was losing all of that the push he needed? Or did it just not matter anymore – which didn't make sense. If she didn't matter, why tell her?

The lawyer who gave incredible opening statements was looking at her. Matt was looking at her, his eyes distant, and without seeming to, he stepped away, widened the gap between them. There was no quaver in his voice as he spoke. "You're really good at digging up stories no one was looking for, Karen. You have a real talent to finding the truth, no matter how complicated or dangerous it is. Now that you're…" He gestured at the door, down the passage, gone, away. "at the Bulletin, and paid to investigate and uncover what people are trying to hide, I…"

Maybe her body language distracted him, because Karen felt how stiff she was standing, arms crossed, angry. It was like the kiss had never happened. She let him finish, trail off more like, his voice losing some of the bravado as he finished. "I wanted you to know so that you knew… you could call me, for help. If you needed it. As me or… Daredevil."

It was sad, a little. Neither Matt nor Foggy had had any idea half the time what she was doing, investigating. She had stumbled into Union Allied all on her own, and killed… She had investigated Frank and his family and the Blacksmith all without them having the faintest idea where she was, what she was doing. Frank had saved her… granted he had put her in danger too, but Frank, not Matt had found her. Helped her. Now Matt was offering what? Protection. A guardian lawyer who would swoop in and sue her enemies and beat them up if need be.

"I don't need your protection, Matt. I'm doing just fine…" _without you._ Matt was nodding, feet moving, the distance widening, turning away from her and towards the door. Karen was angry. Furious.

 _I have this incredible ability…._

"Are you really blind?"

The words sounded far too sharp, dagger like. She didn't mean for it to sound so harsh, so angry but Karen nonetheless felt a small thrill and a spike of shame as Mat flinched. The Daredevil helmet dropped, hand at his side, the horns pointed out and away from her. Belatedly Karen realised she was still holding his glasses, fingers pressed against the lenses, leaving marks. Did that matter?

"My eyes don't work, but my other senses make up for it."

Short, brief, to the point and utterly, utterly useless. Had it been an act? A play for sympathy? A disguise? A sham? A secret identity. Karen stared, stared at this stranger, this man who hurt her over and over, and yet, it was still Matt standing there – looking away. Not at her.

She had so many questions! And he wasn't even trying, not really. Just standing there, waiting for her. Shoulders slumped, hands clenching, face turned away, already half out of the door, down the corridor mentally. Lost. Gone.

What did he want from her? What did she…

Understanding.

Sometimes all it took was seeing the piece from a different angle, in a new light. Then it fit, the puzzle became clear.

He wanted her understanding. Wanted her to understand why things had fallen apart. The reason why Foggy was angry, and why Matt was walking away from them.

To hell with that!

 _I have this ability to bring disaster to the best things in my life._

 _Hold on with both hands._

Their words fell over each other in her mind. Frank's bruised face, a brutal mask of vengeance telling her to never let go. Matt telling her, forehead to forehead, that he was a walking disaster, prone to bringing ruin to the best things in his life.

To hell with that!

"Matt."

He stilled, tense, listening to her. At least that was true. His helmet was swinging slightly from his fingertips, the picture of casual, idle nonchalance – completely betrayed by the set of his shoulders, his tight jaw.

Fearing that he'd spook if she moved, Karen sighed, "This is a lot to take in, to process. Can we… can I buy you dinner and … talk?"

He didn't move, didn't react for several long seconds, just a half-tilted head turned towards her, eyes boring into her empty desk, useless, unneeded cane on the chair, unmasked and alone. Was he…

"Ok, sure."

Casual. Cautious.

"Ok, let me…" Karen trailed off, looking for her coat, heart fluttering madly, suddenly nervous, anger replaced with something indefinable, something confusing. She was definitely still angry, had loads and loads of questions, but this felt important, like when Frank wanted to talk to her, only her. Like sitting with Elena, eating something warm and hearty. Making lasagne for Matt and Foggy. Her coat was hanging on the coat-rack near the door and Matt was waiting in the corridor already, mask back in its brown paper bag, cane in hand. Karen gulped, nerves drying her throat, as she pulled her coat on and grabbed her bag. She was also drawing a complete blank on where to go to eat. What exactly was the best cuisine to have while grilling a friend, a colleague on their lies? Steak? Would she even be able to eat?

Matt's hand brushed against hers as they both reached to close the door and Karen pulled away, startled. Grimacing a little, he pulled the door shut and stared at her. Karen stared back, face warming and when Matt murmured, "My glasses?" she flushed and handed them back. Had she really been holding them all this time? Matt motioned for her to go ahead of him and Karen hurried down the passage, mind racing.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

She was trying very hard not to look at him. Or bump into him. Touch him. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, folded, angry, huddled into the warmth of her jacket, pace brisk, breath misting as she exhaled. Hair floating around her shoulders like a halo. Matt kept his cane in front of him, bag tucked under his arm, pace steady – matching hers. She was watching his cane. Did he even need it?

Without really thinking about it, she hurried through the cold towards the small Korean restaurant a couple of blocks over from their… the office. It was run by one of the families in the neighbourhood Nelson and Murdock had assisted. She had been thinking about this place, their usual Thursday lunch stop and only when she drew up alongside it, did she realise where they were. Karen flushed, but turned to Matt nonetheless and said, "This ok?" They were open for Christmas, almost everyone was these days and she knew they'd give her table, given their assistance two months ago, their regular patronage. She ignored the spike of guilt at using an advantage from an organisation that no longer existed and where she no longer worked, she wasn't going to order for all three of them again...

Matt nodded, his face unreadable. Trying not to let the anger rise again, and quash the sympathy that had led her here, Karen shoved through the door and smiled at Mrs Pak. The normally grumpy lady waved at her with what passed for a smile and barked something at her nephew. Jimmy, the young man in question, grinned at her like a loon. Karen shot a look at Matt hovering in the door, the wintery wind tugging at his coat and clothing. She smiled wanly and grabbed his hand, leading him inside. Did he need her help?

His hand was cold, icy even and Karen firmly towed him towards a table at the back, Jimmy rapidly clearing it of dirty dishes. The place was busy, mostly with Korean families and couples. Mrs Pak's sole acknowledgement to the festive season was a Santa Clause bobble-head at the till, but if you came here close to Korean New Year it was a riot of colour and decorations – it was also impossible to get a table then. Jimmy shoved a menu at her and she absently nodded thanks and said to Matt, "Empty chair on your right, kinda low."

It was a habit she had picked up from Foggy and it was one she periodically forgot about – telling Matt where stuff was. He was usually so competent, so in control – she had never felt the need to tell him where his glass was, or fork or… and now, she felt weird. Did he need that help? Was that a lie too? More and more this meal, this conversation felt like a mistake. She should have just thanked him and left. _Thank you for telling me why you've been such an asshole. Thank you for breaking my heart._

 _You have everything._

Matt sat down slowly, brown paper bag tucked at his side. Daredevil. Did he feel weird walking around with it in a bag? Had he been worried she wouldn't believe him without seeing it? Karen shrugged out of her coat, and settled in her chair. Matt kept his coat on – he probably wanted to make a quick getaway. Jimmy passed by their table, haphazardly placed a pitcher of water and beamed at her, "Beer? We do great eggnog."

"Ah, coffee please – for both of us," Karen smiled and belatedly realised she should have asked Matt, but Jimmy was already gone. Matt said nothing, one hand resting on the table, the other tucked into his coat. It was like he was letting her lead because this was her show, her idea. Had he followed only because she asked? Because he owed her something… Hiding behind the menu was always a great idea, but Karen knew exactly what she wanted and stammered, "You ok with our usual?"

He nodded, face turned towards the door, the rest of the room, mouth stiff and closed. Maybe they should have gone to his place? Hers? Definitely not hers, not with the very visible reminders of the ninjas and its craptastic décor. She didn't even have a Christmas tree up. His was out of the question too, what with the last time she'd been there. The strange woman in his bed.

"Who was she? The women in your bed."

It came out before she could stop herself. Of all the questions, the thousand swirling around her head, that one was the most… difficult. No, not difficult – awkward. Like she was jealous. Or angry. Or… she hadn't wanted to hear him then and now he was ready to talk, so…. Would he have told her the truth then, would he have explained? Or would it have been one more time, another opportunity to lie to her? Matt didn't react, his face smooth, but his hand clenched and then quickly unclenched like he knew she was looking. The silence stretched out between them and it took so long for him to sigh, that she thought he may just ignore the question. Instead, he sighed, licked his lips and said, "She was an old friend. She needed my help and …"

My help. Karen wanted to ask if that me was Daredevil or Matt. Was there a difference? Had she known? Matt though continued, face swinging away from her – not looking at her. "I met her in college, years ago and when she showed up asking for help, I tried… I told her no. But … it was something big, an actual threat to the city, not just her."

"Ninjas."

He nodded in reply, fidgeting now with napkin on the table, his whole frame at ease, but screaming discomfort. "I… I had to help and that's why I wasn't around during Frank's trial."

"You were helping her?" Karen had no idea why her heart was pounding, why it felt like she was running.

"Yeah. I didn't… It wasn't like either could wait and you and Foggy seemed to be ok." Matt voice's was soft, gentle, but he was slowly shredding the paper of the napkin, and she could feel his knee bobbing up and down near her leg.

"And you couldn't tell us what was really going on?" Karen winced her own tone. Ouch, that had sounded far harsher than she intended, but Matt didn't react – any more than he was already. Face, eyes hidden, turned away, posture calm. "I didn't know what was going on – that was kinda the problem. Elektra wasn't telling me everything, but she was also in the dark about a lot of it."

Elektra. Karen twisted the name over in her mind. Sounded foreign, or like a name some Jersey-shore tart thought up for her kid. Elektra. Matt opened his mouth to say something else but Karen blurted out, tongue tripping over itself in her haste, "Do you love her?"

Matt stilled like she'd punched him, and he tensed for more, braced for an attack almost. Shaking her head, face red, Karen rambled over herself, "No, no, don't answer that. It doesn't matter." But it did. Karen had no illusions about love – she certainly didn't hold with any soulmate nonsense or only one person just for you. She knew you could love more than one person. She knew love was an array of emotions and people flitted in and out of your heart and that you could feel twisted and broken about multiple people. Hell, even whilst grinning at Matt one day, she'd find herself strangely attracted, drawn to Frank Castle the next. But whether or not Matt loved this Elektra was important. Who did he dream about?

"Karen,"

"Was it all an act?"

She looked at him hard then, eyes hot, some of the anger from before surging up. Jimmy arrived with their coffees, and in the gap his arrival created, Matt smiled up at him. "Thanks. Our usual, please."

Jimmy nodded, already turning to scan the other tables. "Ok, no problem. For two or three?"

Karen stared at their table. It was for four people – she hadn't even noticed. Abruptly the absence of Foggy took her breath away and all that it meant. No more friends. No more nights at Josies'. No more usual from the Paks, or Bhat, or Triple Hit, or Enrico's or Sal's or…

"Just two please, Jimmy."

"You got it, Mr Murdock."

If Jimmy had noticed the tension, seen her face, he didn't pause – just disappeared into the noise of the restaurant. Karen was left staring at the empty seat next to Matt, and its Foggy-shaped hole.

"No."

Karen's attention snapped back to Matt and she frowned. "It wasn't an act, Karen. Not … all of it."

What where they talking about again? What had she meant? Which deception was she challenging? Well, in for a penny. "Just some of it," she said sharply, and immediately wanted to know what parts had and hadn't been fake – of whatever they were talking about. His blind act. His feelings towards her. Foggy. Elektra. Matt waited but Karen stared back at him, daring him to continue. He licked his lips again. Why did she keep noticing that? "How I felt... feel about you, Foggy, the firm. That was never an act."

Dropping her gaze, Karen nodded, hearing the truth in his voice, her heart aching in response. "I am blind, legally. I can't get a driver's licence, I need braille to read most things, I can't see pictures on tv or…. and the billboard doesn't bother me. People would notice, would question why I don't need a cane, or … Look, my eyes don't work, Karen and it weirds people out, so I wear glasses."

That's not the only reason why you do, Karen thought but her heart was pounding too hard for her to say anything. It felt too surreal, this conversation. Matt explaining his lies, trying to get her to understand. "It's just something…. It's not something that you can bring up on conversation easily. Hey, I'm legally blind but because of the toxic chemicals that took my eyes my other senses make up the difference. It's…. "

"I get it." And she did. Oh boy, did she. The big elephant sitting on your heart, the thing that loomed over every conversation that turned serious, every moment where maybe you could share, spill the beans and then you chickened out. I killed someone. I killed that Wesley guy. I can see … sort of. She got it, but it still pissed her off, mostly because here, once again, was the perfect opportunity to tell her big secret and she sure as hell wasn't going to now. Even if, maybe, Matt would completely understand too.

Matt though was still talking, a floodgate opened. "Even before the incident and Steve Rogers taking out Shield, people were afraid of … those with abilities. I'm not a mutant, or even really what you'd call enhanced, I think but … it's not an easy secret to share." Matt sounded distant, like this was a conversation he had rehearsed over and over. Why I lied, an essay by Matt Murdock. Honestly, she understood this at least – the fear of telling someone a big secret, not knowing really how they would react. Whether their reaction was because you lied, or because of what you did, were doing in his case. "It makes for a good disguise though," she whispered. "No one would look twice at a blind man and think, yeah, he's a vigilante."

Matt shrugged, the truth self-evident. "I can't help that but you're right. It's an easy disguise because it's the truth. Even if I wasn't… even if I spent my nights at home, asleep, I'd act the way I do. Like I was blind."

Wear this mask. Karen blinked as she stared at him, watching his face, his whole everything. Was that truth? Who was the mask? Daredevil or Matt?

"Why are you telling me this now? Really." He must feel her attention, her gaze, because he turned slightly, like he was staring back at her. The noise of the restaurant swelled around them. Happy families. Friends laughing. Lovers holding hands. Christmas even without the decorations. Jimmy's voice, "Order up!"

The spices of the variety of kimchi and noodle dishes he expertly laid out wafted over Karen, her mouth-watering in response. In a room already heady with the aromas of so much food and drinks, the proximity of their meal pulled at her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast and the lonely bowl of cereal she'd had, whilst standing over the sink. "You ok with coffee?" Jimmy was beaming, as always and Karen nodded. "Still good, thanks."

Matt's words followed hers, half a second behind, but softer. Jimmy grinned, "Merry Christmas! Enjoy!"

The food steamed between them, the twists and curls of the heat fading and forming like dragon-breath. Karen didn't move, her attention on Matt. She couldn't see his hands anymore, the table obscured by bowls and dishes. He seemed to be listening, waiting. Karen swallowed her urge to speak, break the silence. She felt her hands tremble.

"We made a deal." His voice was soft, nearly lost in the noise.

Something shifted inside her, and Karen felt her stomach clench. He remembered their deal, and that made her ridiculously pleased but it also didn't really answer her question… Matt though wasn't done speaking, his lips moving as he tried to find the words. He made several aborted starts before saying, "I didn't know if I'd have the chance to…. I didn't know if we'd ever see each other again – without it being…. I promised you I'd tell you when… I could." He trailed off, like the words hurt to say. Like the unsaid words hurt more. Like the idea of not having a chance to tell her later hurt – because she wasn't going to be in his life. Because it was all over.

Abruptly a happy chorus of shouts from a nearby table startled her. The voices were so stupidly oblivious and happy and…. "I should go."

Matt was getting up, brown paper bag in hand, and Karen clutched the table as he said, "This was a bad idea, I'm sorry, enjoy the food." Hand reaching for his wallet.

Mouth and throat dry, Karen gasped, "No, please. Stay."

He paused, still rising from his seat, legs poised to stand. "Karen." He sounded like she was a child and he knew better. That soft, irritating assumption that he knew better. _I don't want you to get hurt_. She squeezed his hand, not realising she had grabbed it and the words fell from her lips like traitors. "Please don't go."

He sat, motion arrested but he didn't settle, didn't move flush into the table again. Ready to bolt. Still holding his hand, very conscious of that and wondering when she was supposed to let go, should she let go, Karen said softly, hoping he could hear her over the noise. "This is awkward and weird and maybe it is a bad idea, or just the wrong place for it. But, I can't… I don't want you leaving like this. Please, just give me this. For a while."

She had no idea what 'this' was even as she said it, but it sounded right. Matt settled, a sigh escaping him as he leant back into chair. Like he didn't want to be there, but would stay – for her. She let go of his hand and leant forward, voice still low and said, "I feel like you've turned everything upside down, Matt. I feel… I don't really know what I'm feeling, other than – a lot. So, give me … you owe me this." After all the lies, and the hurt. She had wanted to know, and know she did. She needed this.

He bobbed his head, a sad motion of agreement and Karen pulled a dish near her and started spooning its contents into hers and his bowl. The words continued to ramble out of her as she divvied up the meal, a mindless, happy task masking the tremor in her hands, the fluttering of her heart. Words raced through her mind as she tried to express the weight pressing on her chest. Once she could do that, once she felt lighter, he could go. Maybe.

The words left her like a torrent.

"I don't really care why you wear that mask, Matt –honestly I don't, because I get it, sort of. I get the urge to fix things and help and maybe blur the lines between the law and people who just never seem to pay. I get it." She shoved his bowl towards him and it teetered narrowly on the edge, almost falling. Matt slowly, like he had all the time in the world, steadied the bowl with an errant finger. Not a drop slipped. "I even understand why you didn't tell me – at first. You didn't know me. I was just some girl in trouble you helped. I … I realise that it would take time, to trust me."

Matt flinched, like she had struck him. Karen pulled her own bowl closer but didn't pick up her spoon, her coffee lukewarm on her fingers as she absently brushed against the ceramic. "I understand how difficult it must have been to keep this secret, and I know you knew this conversation would not be an easy one, so I understand why you delayed, put it off, continued the lie. I get it."

He pursed his lips, swallowed reflexively and shook his head minutely. Karen felt her face grow warm, and a ridiculous tremor started in her throat as she stammered, "What I don't get, Matt. What I don't get is…why you even bothered to try… with me? How were we ever… ever going to be more than anything, if you didn't tell me this? Where you just..." _after sex, being cruel, messing with me?_ The words died unspoken, because Karen had no idea what she meant.

Shit! She didn't want to start crying and she didn't want to go down this path and talk about hurt feelings and disappointments. For a second, Karen thought about running, about leaving him here, like a fool, like the fool he had made her feel. A woman in his bed, telling her he wanted to do this right, and slow and then lying and lying and …. Strong, steady fingers found hers, both of her hands and squeezed. She opened her eyes and Matt's face was close to hers, stupid glasses still on, but he seemed so earnest, so concerned.

"You are important to me, Karen. More – more than I can really express. I don't know what I was thinking, truly. It just felt… right. I wanted … you, this." His voice shook a little, fingers warm on hers. "I wanted more than…"

More than friendship, more than nights at Josie's, more than tentative smiles. Karen gulped, willing the tears away, because she refused to let another man bring her to the brink of tears. Steeling herself to pull away, she opened her mouth to speak. Matt beat her though and his words scattered her thoughts in an instant. "I wanted to do this right. I wanted this to be real, and I sure as hell never wanted to hurt you. Sometimes, you feel like the only real thing in my life."

He was close enough to kiss, if she leant forward a little. _I have this incredible ability_.

"And it kills me that I hurt you, that you feel like I was pretending."

Matt's voice sounded weird. For a second she was back in their office, Matt standing in his office doorway, bruised, hurt, so close to breaking. Tears rough in his voice. Then she was back in Mrs Pak's and their lips were touching. Soft, gentle. "You're a lousy shit, you know that," she whispered against his lips.

"I know." His words tickled her as they brushed her skin. He kissed her again. The steam from the food was making her neck and face hot, and Matt was exploring her mouth like this was their last kiss. The last prayer of a pilgrim. "You're a liar," she mumbled.

"Yes."

His hand was in her hair, running down her face. _Are you ok?_

Karen broke the kiss, pulling away, her heart pounding. Confusion raged through her. Did she want this? Hell, yes. Was she furious, pissed off? Yes. She both never wanted to see him again and felt like she'd die if he left. Damnit. "I'm mad at you. You've made everything… twisted. I don't know what to believe."

Matt didn't move, poised still inches from her. Waiting. It was awkward sitting like this, poised over their food, left hands still entwined.

 _Hold on tight. With both hands. Never let it go._

Frank's words pounded through her, hammering in concert to her beating heart. In the end, she sighed and said quietly, "But I want to… I want this too."

She was so royally screwed.

The meal was hardly the best one they had ever had, but over the steaming bowls, mouthfuls of food and noisy guests, it was easier to talk – somehow. A buffer to the rawness of her feelings, an excuse to look away, think, process.

And even though sometimes her heart beat with anger, remembering times when he lied, when telling her and Foggy the truth would have been hard, but would have made things so much simpler, she held his hand, and he rubbed his thumb her overs.

Matt barely ate, picking at the food. Karen stuck with the dishes she liked, savouring the tastes. These dishes would always bring this dinner, this secret back to remembrance. She resented him a little for that.

"What happened, really, to you last year? With the car accident." She tried not to sound too hurt, too bitter.

"A guy called Nobu, a ninja. He caught me… I was mad about Elena, walked into Fisks's trap. Nobu nearly… it was very close."

Ninjas. Fisk. The Russians. Cartels. The Irish. Human trafficking. So many people to fight, to stop. The noodles were delicious.

"Who, uh, who helped you?"

"Foggy and Claire. Claire's a nurse, I met her when she pulled me out of a dumpster."

"For real?"

"For real."

How many times had he hidden injuries and hurts under the lie of the suit? How many times had he been late, tired, exhausted because he was saving someone, hurting someone else? Every time? Always?

"The ninjas now, the other day, same guys?"

He nodded, face blank, but he squeezed her hand. "Same guy – Nobu again. Scary cult fighting a secret war. I was… I had something they wanted and they used you to get to me."

Karen knew that. Had figured it out straight away, just hadn't realised that Daredevil had more than a passing investment in her. More than just saving her once. He had seemed so familiar, so… like she knew he'd come and when he was there, it was right. _Better now._ Had she realised on an unconscious level?

"Do you know where Frank is? Where you helping him?"

"No and yes, to a degree. I … I understood what he was trying to do, why he had to do it. I just didn't like his methods. Killing."

Karen nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. Frank burnt a strong ember of sympathy in her. She understood his need to punish those who had betrayed him, killed his family. On this, at least, she agreed with Matt. His methods were not… ideal.

"Who taught you to fight?"

"Stick. The old blind guy at my apartment when…"

Karen skated away from that memory, the raw anger rising. "When did Foggy find out/"

"The first time I fought Nobu."

Months. Nearly a year.

When Jimmy hurried by, the pace of the restaurant slowing down as it grew late, Karen asked for the food to go, split between her and Matt. She frowned when he tried to protest and he dropped into silence.

They sat that way for a good while, even after Jimmy brought their takeout and bill. Not saying anything, holding hands, fingers entwined, Matt's foot steady against hers under the table. What else was there to say? There were still a hundred questions she could throw at him, a mountain of bullshit to plough through, but Karen felt tired. Wrung out.

The terrifying uncertainty of the future, the days and weeks ahead of them, weighed her down.

"Can I walk you home?"

"Sure."

It wasn't a long walk, distance wise. The streets were quiet, most folk at home, squeezing the last out of Christmas day. The night air was cold, too cold for long periods outdoors. Matt's hand was warm against hers, and his shoulder bumped into hers regularly, cloth brushing cloth, contact initiated over and over. It was … nice.

Things felt… settled. Or perhaps just too tired to fight. Karen tried not to think too much, over analyse. She tried to just let her emotions settle and see where it lead her.

Matt? Matt was as quiet, if not more so. Like he was savouring this one last moment. His shoes barely made a sound on the sidewalk, cane tucked under his arm with the bag. People passed them, hurrying this way and that. Cabs and cars trundled down the street, their lights illuminating patches of shadow and buildings in rays of motion. Raised cheerful voices from a bar across the street, drunk singles celebrating. Overhead, scattered clouds obscured stars you couldn't see on a clear night and promised snow. Matt's exhalations as they walked.

A lightness settled over Karen, a feeling of resolution.

They slowed as they approached her building and Karen heard herself speak, and it almost felt like someone else was talking, "Thank you. For telling me."

Matt nodded.

"I am mad, furious but I'm also… I'd like to see where this goes, now that I know…. everything."

"Kay," he replied, not looking at her.

The steps to her building were in sight, and Karen felt a surge of mixed emotion as the memory of their kiss, sitting side by side on the steps, made her heart race. The take out bag in her other hand swung heavily, telegraphing her anxiety. "Is that what you want? To try?"

Matt's grip tightened and moving so deftly she was caught off guard, he placed his bag, cane and her takeout on the middle step and pulled her into a long, deep, resonating kiss. He backed them up against the small wall, giving her the space to pull away, his back to the wall. Hands tight around her waist, pressing against the small of her back, lifting her a little. It felt like he was pouring every desperate, lonely need into that kiss, every grief filled night, every moment of regret, repentance and hope. She melted against him, hard unyielding chest and hidden heart, a good man trying his best, failing and trying again.

As they broke, more for air than anything else, Matt whispered, "I need you in my life, I need you."

She smiled, and felt his lips curve up into the wicked smile she loved so much.

Maybe this was a biggest mistake of her life. Maybe Matt was going to continue to hurt her, rip her heart out and shred it. Maybe he felt the same about her. Maybe he wanted her to hurt him just as much, and her absence would be the hardest price he ever paid if he skewed up again. Maybe, just maybe, that was what really mattered.

Fin


End file.
